


Questioning the Elf, the Mage, and the Girl

by prgs



Series: Tales of the Dragon Age, 4E [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Gen, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:22:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prgs/pseuds/prgs
Summary: The Inquisition advisors discuss the newly-appointed Herald, Nissa Lavellan, with some hesitance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a script-esque style that was mostly done as a personal reference to decide how the advisors would react to my new Inquisitor. Also references my Warden Aribeth Tabris.

SETTING:

JOSEPHINE's office in the Haven chantry. It's near sundown; soldiers are heading to the tavern or to their tents after a chilly day of training. Nervous eyes avoid the breach and focus, instead, on the gentle wind chilling their exposed, ruddy cheeks; on the loud, laughing Qunari, or the witty dwarf swaying with his crossbow; on the possibility of hope; on the promises made by distant lovers and forlorn mothers. There is a contradictory air about: one of buzzing melancholy and optimistic hopelessness.

LELIANA, JOSEPHINE, and CASSANDRA sit together, drinking Antivan wine; Josie's treat. It has been a difficult few weeks.

 

LELIANA:

I managed to contact Clan Lavellan; all checks out. She is, I believe, what she appears to be.

 

CASSANDRA, with a wry smirk:

And what is that, exactly?

 

LELIANA:

Simply a young Dalish mage who was sent to the conclave by her Keeper to observe the meeting. The Dalish are an honourable people; they have no reason to be involved in such a disaster as this. If it _was_ her, it was her alone.

 

CASSANDRA:

Can you be so sure? They hold no love for the Maker, nor our Chantry.

 

JOSEPHINE:

But no malice, either. Despite their views, I am sure they would much rather be left alone.

 

CASSANDRA:

And what of the Herald? She is an enigma to me. Were I Andraste, I would not send one such as that. I have no doubts as to her abilities, but I am not sure she will be followed.

 

JOSEPHINE:

Her situation is. . . testing. A youthful, willowy elven maiden, and a mage no less, expected to inspire soldiers and nobility alike-

 

LELIANA:

The Hero was much the same, remember. Now many respect her name.

 

CASSANDRA:

 _She_ was a warrior and a Grey Warden, supported by a bastard prince, Orzammar, the Arl of Redcliffe, and Queen Anora herself. The situation did not involve our Most Holy lying dead. _She stops- uncomfortable. Josephine sips her wine and Leliana rubs her temples._

 

JOSEPHINE, after a quiet moment:

And what of her disposition? I cannot place it. Quiet, reserved. . . yet confident in all her declarations. She seems gentle, but I have spoken to her quite enough to know that she is not docile. Others, I am sure, make that mistake. On the matter of justice, she told me: “A man must be prepared to endure the results of his actions. Thought is necessary.” When I asked her of herself, she only shrugged, and said that she is content enough. She is the only Dalish here, yet has no wish to conform.

 

CASSANDRA:

Solas is much the same. It is. . . unnerving.

 

LELIANA:

We should embrace it. Perhaps a pariah is what we need to end this madness. _She pauses to sip her wine._ Though she denies being sent by Andraste, she has adapted to her situation with little hesitance. Even with the mark, she shows more curiosity than fear. That is what we need.

 

CASSANDRA, her tone less serious:

Curiosity will not close the breach; curiosity will keep it open for dissection. She does not understand what we have lost.

 

JOSEPHINE:

Though Mistress Lavellan _does_ appreciate the unknown, she is no fool. She will not endanger-

At this moment, KNIGHT-COMMANDER CULLEN enters the room. The joyful chatter of the Haven night can be faintly heard outside until he closes the door behind him. He has a tired expression, but smiles to see the Inquisition advisors -his friends- chatting so informally over wine.

 

CULLEN, still at the door:

I hope I do not interrupt.

 

JOSEPHINE:

Not at all. We were just discussing the Herald; join us. _She stands to grab a glass for Cullen. He sits beside Cassandra_ _as Josie hands him his wine._

 

CULLEN:

My thanks. _He takes a sip and considers what to say; clearly, there is some tension present._ The Herald. . . Mistress Lavellan is. . . talented, though I dare say young and naive. Her questioning can be, at times, off-putting. I have never known someone to ask so many questions.

 

LELIANA, with a faint smile:

I would not call her naive. Inexperienced, perhaps. This way of living is new to her- finally something tangible, beyond stories and warnings. She is wise to question it.

_Leliana's thoughts are with Aribeth, the missing Hero, who she saw in the Herald sometimes. Despite the ten years that had passed, she could vividly remember the leery amber eyes catching the sun at dawn, wavy hair bouncing as she swung her sword, and the expression of pain she could not describe after it all had ended. All are quiet for a minute, thinking of this sudden change in the world. Of the Dalish girl with a hand to close the sky. Leliana pauses, and twirls a lock of hair between her finger._

Pretty, though. She is quite pretty.

 

CULLEN coughs on his wine: CASSANDRA and JOSEPHINE laugh.

 

CULLEN, with a slight blush:

Too much so, I think. She is what, twenty? My men are either making crude jokes or questioning the viability of a small elven girl closing the breach. 

 

CASSANDRA, giving CULLEN a severe look:

I _hope_ you discipline them well for such remarks.

 

CULLEN, eyes wide, as JOSEPHINE stifles a laugh:

I- well, yes. Of course.

 

JOSEPHINE, gathering herself:

You speak the truth, Cullen. Despite our views on the matter, she is the Herald; our people must learn to accept her appearance for what it is without degradation or infatuation. Though, truth be told, I am not sure that it is the kind of beauty, if you can indeed call it that, that the nobility of Ferelden or Orlais will appreciate.

 

CASSANDRA, with a sigh:

By the Maker, what _is_?

 


End file.
